Mori Kynd (Darkened Sky)
by Nave1027
Summary: Fifteen years after the Imperial victory in Skyrim's civil war, a mysterious vigilante begins a campaign on the corrupt. Meanwhile, a new threat arises with a sinister intent for the fate of Skyrim. A courier, a guard, and a mage get caught up in the conflicts.
1. Valuable Cargo

Cracked lines of blue electrified the black sky. Stinging rain pelted Damian Weylin's head and shoulders as he trudged along the cobblestones. The temperature would soon plummet as the mild climate of the Whiterun Hold morphed into the harshness of The Pale.

Life as a courier, while adventurous, was never easy. Those words of his father rang all too well in his mind. It was not the occupation his father had wanted for him, but the exploration and adventure that the job entailed enticed him. Damian was a procrastinator, however, which brought him much trouble on the job. Putting his latest deliveries off until the last minute, three letters still had to be transported in less than a week, with each letter being in a different hold.

Following the events surrounding the Dragonborn fifteen years prior, Skyrim set up headquarters in each hold where letters and gifts were taken to be delivered. This revolutionized the way common citizens relayed personal messages and gifts to one another. Unfortunately for Damian, this meant deadlines had to be met and he had to answer to superiors. His boss would have his head if he failed to complete his assignment again.

As he neared an intersection of two main roads, he noticed a caravan approaching from the West. Something was off though; this caravan was enormous in size and length…

Suddenly Damian hit the ground, deafened, as fire and smoke flooded the atmosphere. A massive plume surrounded the area while faint screams of terror and death filled the night air. As Damian slowly rose to his feet, the immense devastation around him became evident. Surviving Nobles emerged from the fire and destruction as the perpetrators revealed themselves violently. Arrows struck down men and women left and right, while the guards met their fate at the edge of a Forsworn sword. This shouldn't be happening, Damian remembered seeing a sizable amount of soldiers guarding the caravan earlier.

This had to be a royal caravan, carrying a large number of nobles and their families across Skyrim. Nobles took leisurely journeys from time to time, but this was different. Something urgent had to be transpiring for this many of Skyrim's royalty to be venturing into The Pale. Unfolding before his eyes was more than a typical bandit raid on civilians; this was a planned assault, carried out by highly skilled warriors.

Rushing behind the cover of a rock to avoid detection, a heart-wrenching sight stopped Damian in his tracks. Children were fleeing in terror as their relatives and elders were being slaughtered before their eyes. Damian had to do something. He took hold of a steel sword nearby and surveyed the ensuing chaos. The explosion had to have come from the mage, who was still shooting fireballs at the unarmed Nords.

Damian made his way silently around the chaos towards the mage, attempting to remain hidden. As his pace quickened, a quick strike ignited his back in agony. He lay helpless as a Forsworn stood over him, sword raised. Awaiting a sword to the chest, Damian cringed. Instead of feeling pain however, Damian heard a shout and a thud as the Forsworn crumpled to the ground, a black arrow protruding from his back.

The mage ceased firing. "Retreat! Take the children as hostages!" Forsworn were dropping like flies as the mage confronted the assailant, providing an escape route for the remaining soldiers and their hostages. The mage staggered back, an arrow lodged in his shoulder. "This isn't over!" the mage shouted, vanishing from sight.

Excruciating pain coursed down Damian's back as his vision blurred. Among the fire and smoke emerged a hooded figure. The last thing he saw was a pair of piercing beady eyes as he allowed the darkness to take him.


	2. The Vigilante

The damage was catastrophic. As an investigative guard of The Pale, Imperial Aldyss Lunn was accustomed to encountering typical bandit raids; this attack however, was unique.

"Aldyss!" Captain Clovis' voice startled Aldyss from his pondering, "Have you drawn any further assessments?"

"No sir I…" Aldyss stopped mid-sentence; noticing a slight detail that had been previously overlooked, "wait men! Don't dispose of that body!"

"What is it?" the captain asked. Aldyss moved towards soldiers carrying the body of a fallen Forsworn. He had them stop as he examined further.

"This is an ebony arrow," Aldyss stated, motioning towards the Forsworn's back, "not only are these hard to come by, but you and I both know Imperial guards' arrows are primarily crafted from steel. Forsworn do not utilize ebony in their weapons either, and rarely attack their own."

"So what are you suggesting?"

"Well you are welcome to examine other available bodies, but based on this evidence alone, I have a strong inclination that a third party was involved."

Clovis appeared skeptical. "Are you sure about this Aldyss?"

"I would say no, but you need to see the tracks."

He led the captain to the intersection of two main roads. A dirt path became visible as they neared the edge of the intersection. Located on the path, as Aldyss pointed out, was another set of tracks, different than those of the Forsworn and victims of the attack. "The tracks continue down this path, leading to Akatosh knows where."

Captain Clovis reflected on the evidence presented, running his fingers through his thick black hair. "Well, your conclusion is heavily weighted, and your assessments have yet to disappoint. What do you think? Should we pursue this further?"

There was a long pause. "No…" Aldyss sighed returning his gaze to the smoldering remains of the caravan, "we have more pressing matters at hand."

-X-

Hard stone welcomed Damian as he awoke from his slumber. The smooth rock was cool on his bare torso. Caked blood in his blond hair jogged his memory, sending chills down his spine. Remembering all that had happened, he hurriedly examined his surroundings. He was in a stone construct; the walls lined with a strange metal. Its appearance was like that of bronze or copper. Pain resurfaced in his back as he attempted to rise up…

"Your back will remain sore for some time."

Damian jumped back a foot. The source of the voice was lurking in a dimly lit corner of the room. There's no telling how long he had been there. Damian remained motionless, as did the hooded figure.

"Who are you?" No answer. This scenario was not playing out well. Whether he was in the presence of a trained killer of the Dark Brotherhood, or simply a lunatic, the possible outcomes of this encounter made the hair on his neck stand up. "Are you," he swallowed, "going to kill me?"

A tense aura lingered in the room for several seconds, followed by a hearty yet ominous chuckle. "Damian Weylin…Nord; deliverer of letters and explorer of the vast land of Skyrim." The blunt, sharp delivery of the man's words left Damian paralyzed, unable to breathe. "You originate from Falkreath, where your mother resides. Sadly, being the only surviving member of your immediate family, she relies on the little financial income you supply as a courier. She's probably petrified at your absence, worried that your father's fate has befallen you," he paused, "Mr. Weylin I know everything about you down to the minutest detail. If I had even the slightest inclination to kill you, your body would be but ashes, forever lost to the wind and snow."

Damian remained silent for what seemed like an eternity. "So…why am I here? Why did you save me? Why is my lifeless body not en route to Falkreath as we speak?"

The darkness receded from the mysterious man, the piercing, beady eyes emanating from the Nightingale hood. "Welcome to Blackreach Mr. Weylin; your life just got a whole lot more interesting."


End file.
